


Dry Run

by PeppyBismilk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Lysithea’s Sweet Tooth Extends to the Bedroom, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Riding, Size Difference, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Balthus wants to join Lysithea’s family. She proposes a dry run, but things end up getting pretty wet.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Dry Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beanjournal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanjournal/gifts).



_ Well, you could always accept me into your family. _

Balthus said not to think too hard about it, so of course, Lysithea has done nothing but think about it since the words left his mouth. He’s far too old to be adopted—just the thought of Balthus as a brother makes her shudder. There aren’t many other ways to join a family, which can only mean one thing: Balthus wants to marry her. 

But why? Just out of obligation? For a scoundrel, he’s quite kind, and he has an incredibly strong sense of duty. But is that enough to make him a good husband? All the good intentions in the world don’t change the fact that he’s boorish, impetuous, and abysmal with money. Can she really entrust her house to him after her death? Her parents’ futures?

Then again, maybe obligation is exactly what she needs in a husband. As nice as it sounds, she can’t exactly expect to fall in love. That can take years—years she doesn’t have. And it’s not like she has some childhood sweetheart or betrothed waiting for her. Would it be so wrong to take advantage of a convenient arrangement? Without a doubt, Balthus would treat her well for the rest of her life. He’s quite handsome, too, always flexing his muscles like he’s in some circus strongman show, and his hair is long enough to tangle her fingers in and yank…

Lysithea jerks upright in her chair. Pulling his hair? Where did that come from?

He does seem like the type to enjoy things a bit...rough. Not that Lysithea has any practical experience in that department. War doesn’t count, although there’s something to be said for taking down an opponent twice her size. It’s a rush like no other, bending someone bigger to her will, felling grown men in battle like mere paper dolls.

Does that thrill translate to  _ carnal  _ encounters? Lysithea’s body tingles at the prospect and her hand drifts toward the hem of her skirt.

Whether she marries Balthus or not, there’s no harm in imagining a little rough play…

***

Taking down something  _ five _ times her size, Lysithea discovers, is less thrilling and more terrifying. 

So terrifying that when she wakes up in the infirmary with a splitting headache, she can’t remember whether her spell actually hit that demonic beast or not.

“Welcome back, little lady,” says a warm, familiar voice at her bedside. It’s Balthus, of all people, but there’s something different about him. He sounds worried, and his face is all scrunched up to match. It’s weird. Kind of cute. 

“How long was I out?” 

He takes a deep breath and relaxes into a smile that leaves Lysithea feeling fuzzy inside. “’Bout a day. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been out cold for a day,” she replies, rubbing her aching temples.

Balthus stands up, eyes lined with concern, then leans over her and tentatively moves her hands out of the way. He’s gentler than she thought he’d be.

“Allow me.” Feather-light, his rough fingers graze her forehead, soothing the pressure on her brain with a basic healing spell. It’s clumsy magic, but it’s pleasant. Intimate, even. 

Neither of them moves for a moment. Lysithea doesn’t even breathe. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s nothing special,” he says with a good-natured chuckle. He sounds nice when he laughs, and it makes his chest jiggle (not that she’s looking). 

“It’s a rudimentary spell,” she says. “I’ve been performing it since I was a child.” 

Men usually get defensive when she reminds them she’s the superior mage, but Balthus just grins. “Of course you have. You can probably do that spell in your sleep! Though I gotta say, I like the rough and tumble magic you do even better.”

Her cheeks warm for no good reason. “Thank you for relieving my headache. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“That’s a relief,” he says. The little circles he’s massaging into her head feel better than the magic. “It was touch and go for a second there.”

He’s calm, but there’s an edge to his voice. He must have been really worried about her. “What happened?”

“You took that beast out with one of your badass spells, but your spell was so tough it kinda took you out, too,” he explains. “I had to keep checking to make sure you were breathing while I carried you back here.”

Wait. He carried her back to the monastery? Lysithea can picture it: Balthus sweeping her limp body into his arms, bridal style, charging through a raging battlefield to bring her to safety. 

He’s still touching her now. Her heart beats faster. What will he do next? 

He keeps smiling, strokes her temple with his thumb—Lysithea’s breath hitches—and then...

He pats her on the head. 

He  _ pats _ her on the stinking  _ head!  _ Like some sort of petulant child! 

“Hey!” Lysithea ducks out of his reach before he can ruffle her hair or something equally offensive. “Don’t patronize me!”

Balthus puts his arms up like he’s afraid she’ll curse or swat him (and she’s definitely considering it). “I’m not! I wouldn’t! You’re the toughest person I know!”

“Don’t even try to flatter me, either.” Lysithea crosses her arms, more frustrated with herself than him. How could she actually think they were having a moment? It’s so embarrassing that her headache is coming back. What she needs is something to get her spirits back up. “Make yourself useful and bring me some candy.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Balthus stands at attention, arms flat against his side. “Anything you need. I’ll be right back.” He scurries toward the door, then turns back, looking sheepish. “Hey, I’m really sorry about—well, that, just now. I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see your pretty face every day. But you’re running this show. I follow your lead.” He rakes a hand through his hair, then takes off to fetch her candy. 

Balthus follows her lead? Just like that, his transgression is forgotten. There’s something about watching him scramble around at her beck and call—so big, so subservient. It's empowering. She could get used to that feeling. Maybe even learn to love it. And when he comes back with a heaping handful of her favorite caramels, looking like a dog that’s just done a trick, she shelves the urge to eat the candies off his bulging pecs.

Family… Maybe it’s not love, but she might as well live her life to the fullest in the meantime.

“Balthus,” she says, days later when she’s had time to sort her thoughts and concoct a plan. “Remember what you said about joining my family?”

He swallows so hard she can hear it. “Of course. But we don’t need to—”

“What would you say to a dry run?”

Balthus goes bug eyed. “What did you have in mind?”

His eyes go even wider when she tells him, and his eager answer makes her feel more powerful than ever.

***

“I like you like this.” Lysithea looks Balthus up and down like a giant ice cream sundae. He’s naked, flat on his back, and practically salivating. This is without a doubt the best plan she’s ever had.

He likes it, too. That much is obvious, given his stiffening cock. The hardest part is fighting the urge to do nothing but stare at it—it’s the first one she’s seen in person (at least not on an animal) and it’s huge, just like Balthus. The fat, twisting vein on the shaft alone merits hours of careful study and prodding, until he’s writhing with desire, but she’s not feeling patient enough for that now. 

She can almost hear his excitement, even though his tongue’s under a binding spell (hers) and his wrists are bound to the bedposts with leather straps (his). Once Lysithea’s through with him, he won’t even remember the last person who used them on him. Or that’s the plan, anyway. 

“I’ll leave your legs free, for now,” she tells him. “Don't abuse the privilege.”

He nods and his cock gives an eager little jump, one that makes her want to fashion a magical cage to match his gag. 

Someday. But not today.

“You took such good care of me after that fight,” she says as she lets her hair scarf fall to the floor, “so I’ll let you watch me undress. But then, you’re going to pay back your debt one lick at a time.”

Balthus’s chest rises and falls sharply and he licks his lips. Even his tongue is long. There’s only one way to find out how deep it can reach.

“I think…” She tugs at one sleeve to flash a little shoulder, gratified when Balthus flares his nose. Either he doesn’t know she’s winging it, or he doesn’t care. “I’m going to sit on your face first.” 

She must have read the right books, because Balthus nods and makes a “come here” motion with both hands. 

“Be patient,” she snaps. “Or I’ll warp you to the cathedral.”

Balthus shakes his head, but his attention doesn’t flag. If anything, he’s getting harder. 

Hiding a deep breath, she lowers the other sleeve. This is it. The first time anyone else will see her breasts. It’s not that she wishes they were bigger or anything—big tits would just get in the way—but she’s never shown her naked body to anyone before. 

She’s actually glad it’s Balthus, and not just because he’s tied to the bed. 

His pupils go wide as she pulls her dress down, and when it hits the floor, he digs his heels into the mattress, totally at her mercy. She isn’t even naked yet! The rush of power is better than any wine (they’re never sweet enough for her tastes), and goddess, his cock is  _ still growing.  _ She was going to ride that next, but she’s never taken anything bigger than a few of her fingers. 

Not that she’s nervous. 

“Is that all?” She bends over him, breasts brushing his legs, then turns up her nose. “I thought you’d be bigger.”

He makes this face like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard and she almost wants to call off the spell just to hear him moan. Her research indicated he might react this way, but she had no idea how sexy she’d find it, not even when she was fantasizing about him.

“Guess it’ll have to do.”

She isn’t sure if her nipples are so hard because of the cold or because of him, but she cups her breasts and gives them a quick pinch. She’s heard men like that, and Balthus sure seems to, but she’s really just buying herself more time to stare—he has to be fully hard now, right? 

“I suppose you can see my whole body.”

Wrong. His hips buck off the bed and his cock swells even more than before.

“Down, boy.”

His ass falls back to the mattress in an instant, then he’s grinding, almost rutting into it. It gives Lysithea ideas for next time—she saw what looked like a detachable phallus in Edelgard’s room once. Would he like being penetrated? Just the thought of strapping it on, spreading his pert cheeks and fucking him from behind sends a pulse through her.

“Keep it together or the tights stay on.” It’s as much of a warning for herself as for him, but he nods obediently and his hips settle. 

Satisfied, Lysithea runs her hands down her body, hooking her thumbs under the waistband. She releases it with a crisp _snap_. Balthus sits up straighter. His intense gaze is putting out palpable heat; Dorothea told her that performing was a rush, but only now does it really click. Balthus reacts to her every move, her every breath. Being desirable is addictive. 

The lower Lysithea pulls her tights down, the wider Balthus spreads his legs, knees lifting back to his chest. Lythisea freezes, fascinated by the flex and release of his ass. His rim is pink—pretty, in a way. She never gave anal sex a second thought before but her eyes travel up to his cock and she wonders. How would it feel? Would she even be able to take it?

Of course she would. She just never knew she wanted to try—just like all the other enticing fantasies Balthus inspired. 

The excitement gets to her and her tights hit the floor, sexy striptease all but abandoned. Balthus doesn’t care; his jaw drops and something catches the light on the end of his dick.

“What is that?” Lysithea dives forward to examine the liquid oozing from his dick. He tries to say something but all that comes out is a little gargle. She swipes a finger through the pearly droplet and brings it to her lips. She immediately wishes she hadn’t. It’s salty, a little bitter, and boiling hot. In a word, “Disgusting!”

He throws his head back and more of it seeps from his slit, like he gets off on her insults. It almost makes up for the lingering foul taste. 

“It tastes like medicine,” she laments. “There must be something wrong with you. _I_ taste amazing. You want to try?”

He nods, practically drooling as she climbs onto the bed. She mounts him, careful not to touch his dick. His skin is fever hot—no wonder that stuff burned her throat. It’s a challenge even to straddle his broad chest, like the time Lorenz tried to get her on a horse, but Balthus’s eyes on her bare pussy fuel her forward. She slides all the way up to his chin, rising to her knees until his breath warms her wet cunt. 

He makes no move to lick or suck her. He’s waiting. 

“Good boy.” She strokes his cheek with the back of her hand. “You deserve something sweet.” 

She grabs the back of his head and thrusts forward into his waiting tongue, deliberately putting her clit out of reach. He wastes no time lapping up her juices like the dog he was born to be. His tongue reaches almost all the way back to her ass, and he’s  _ good _ with it, tracing every contour, pushing deep inside her, so deep it’s hard not to moan. Liquid pleasure floods her body. She can’t go this easy on him! 

Inspiration strikes in the form of dessert. She keeps a jar of honey on her desk for late night power snacking, but it’s just what she needs to stay in control. She jerks Balthus up by the hair so he can watch her warp the jar into her free hand. His eyes roll back in his head like he might come just from watching her use her magic, and if she doesn’t get a hold of herself, she might come just from watching _him._

“They say you are what you eat.” She focuses on unscrewing the cap, pretending she can’t smell sex on his lips. “Let’s see if more honey fixes your little problem.”

She tilts the jar just enough for a trickle of honey to creep toward the opening. Time crawls as it oozes down the side, out the mouth, and finally onto Lysithea’s cunt. It tickles as it runs down her smooth skin but she’s too enthralled to laugh. Balthus, too, watches with hungry eyes as a shiny little mound of honey collects there, growing heavier by the second.

Satisfied, Lysithea caps the jar and sets it aside. As soon as the honey hits her clit, she smiles wickedly at Balthus.

“Clean it up.”

Balthus dives in, tongue flat against her, and she doesn’t even try to hold back. Moans spill from her lips as he licks her clean, honey mixing with her juices and his spit in every sticky slurp. It smells so good she wants to taste it too, so she does. 

“See?” she taunts, once she’s sucked every drop from her fingers. “I ought to pour it down your throat.”

She’s not even sure if she’s talking about the honey anymore, but clearly, Balthus will take anything she gives him. There’s no trace of honey left but he’s still drinking her down, sucking at her clit so hard her thighs start to shake. She can’t, no, she  _ won’t _ come like this, not when it could be bigger. Much bigger.

It’s agony, yanking Balthus back by the hair and pulling away, but one look at his giant cock makes her cunt feel desperately empty. She’s tempted to release him from his binds so he can help her, but that would be cheating. She needs to do this on her own, and she tells him that, adding, “You better not come inside me.”

He nods, lips and chin glistening, and she can’t help stealing a soft kiss. To his great credit, he doesn’t make it a big deal. Maybe he would if he could talk, but he just keeps grinning up at her like she’s invincible.

Taking down demonic beasts doesn’t hold a candle to this kind of power.

On her knees, she hovers over his cock. It just might split her in half, but at least he knows how to heal her. She takes a deep breath and goes for it.

She meant to rub him with her cunt first, get him all slicked up, but the instant they connect, she needs more. Balthus closes his eyes as Lysithea pushes down, stretching herself wider to take him. Her walls resist him—even just the head is a struggle—but she’s used to pushing her physical limits. She’s so tight, and she wants to hear him say it, wants him to call her  _ baby _ or  _ honey _ or  _ little lady _ so she can slap him, but she’s too focused to unspell him now. 

Somehow, he keeps his hips still while she takes him deeper. It’s easier once the tip is in; the skin beneath slides like it’s lubricated, and maybe it is. She has a lot to learn about his dick, but she has to conquer it first. 

He throbs inside her, spreading her even further. For a furious second she thinks he’s coming and she digs her nails into his chest, but it’s just one pulse.

“Careful,” she scolds him anyway. He shudders, face hazy with desire. Of course he likes it. His reaction gives her the will to take him even deeper. Surely she’s going to run out of room before he runs out of dick, but that doesn’t stop her. 

One last push and she melts onto him, thighs flush with his hips by some miracle. They fit? Lysithea doesn’t believe in fate—perhaps it’s just one hell of a coincidence.

She’s dizzy with it: the feel of him, the emotions she’d rather not deal with right now, and it takes far too long for her to turn her nose up at him and say, “Told you it wasn’t that big.”

He bucks his hips and she yelps, not in pain, but because she’s never felt anything like that before. She needs to feel it again. 

“I’ll wipe that smirk off your face,” she promises, propelling herself up this time before slamming him so hard his jaw goes slack. But she can’t savor the gratification when it feels so good she might combust. Something—her animal instincts, her Crests, his dick—compels her to keep going. Hands on his waist, she rides him until she loses track of everything outside her cunt. All that matters is Balthus filling her, reaching all the places she can’t.

Their hips grind together and her orgasm hits, violent. This must be how it feels to die, to go down from one spell, to black out and wake up in paradise. Her cunt strains around him, squeezing and pulsing in an attempt to drain him dry.

He doesn’t come in her, but she wouldn’t have noticed if he had. He looks desperate when she opens her eyes, and dazed, she manages to choke out the counter spells. 

“Fucking goddess, I’m—shit, Lysithea, you—oh,  _ fuck!”  _

She doesn’t regret silencing him, but it’s nice to hear his voice (even if he sounds stupid). He grabs her by the hips, pulls her off his cock, and drops her on the bed like she weighs nothing, then he’s jerking his cock with one of his giant hands. It’s fascinating to watch, but she can’t resist one more dig.

“Come on yourself.” 

He yells another obscenity and comes so hard he hits his chin. The rest of it splatters his chest. She wants it inside her someday, but for now, the visual is pretty spectacular. 

Maybe someday she’ll taste the stuff again, too, but only after he tests it for her. 

Balthus falls flat on the bed, his breaths deep and ragged. “That was one hell of a show you put on. I knew it’d be good, but...” He shakes his head, like words escape him. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

She lets out a little huff, but the compliment makes her chest flutter just the same. “When would I have gotten the chance? Most people treat me like I’m going to break if they touch me.”

“No way,” Balthus says emphatically. “You know what you can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle, too.”

“And?” 

“And I want you to handle me for the rest of my life.”

Lysithea doesn’t say it aloud, but as she settles in the crook of his arm to rest, she decides she just might want that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, how did those pesky feelings get in here?
> 
> Thanks so much for the wonderful request! It came out a bit soft, but I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> This fic has a [femdommish playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ja13UVGVdMS4eVDR6Exg9?si=M6SXorv7QYui017CfdubWA)! And finally, huge thank you to [phichithamsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters) for beta reading!


End file.
